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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27063034">everything.</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/whisper57/pseuds/whisper57'>whisper57</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>i can tell you, i love him each day. [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Shameless (US)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bipolar Ian Gallagher, M/M, ambiguous ending, he's freely out in the world, it happens in the background but mickey isn't arrested in this universe, kind of</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 21:35:25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,470</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27063034</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/whisper57/pseuds/whisper57</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>ian has a therapy session. he talks about mickey.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>i can tell you, i love him each day. [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2041026</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>105</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>everything.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“What are you thinking about?”</p>
<p>“Hm?”</p>
<p>“You’ve been staring out that window for ten minutes. What are you thinking about?”</p>
<p>“Oh. Um. Was just watching the rain.”</p>
<p>“But also thinking about something, right?”</p>
<p>“Uh. Yeah. I guess.”</p>
<p>“What about, if I may ask?”</p>
<p>“My… Um. Well. I don’t—Uh. My… Mickey.”</p>
<p>An amused smile and: “<em>Your Mickey?”</em></p>
<p>A huff of nervous laughter: “Yeah. He was my. Um. I guess the easiest way to describe it would be to say he was my… boyfriend.”</p>
<p>“That wasn’t all that he was, then?”</p>
<p>“No. It’s. It doesn’t seem like… <em>enough</em>, you know? Like, he was <em>more </em>than… more than just a <em>boyfriend</em>. It seems so wrong to say only that.”</p>
<p>“How else would you describe him, then, Ian?”</p>
<p>“Uh.” A breath. In. Out. “Fuck.” A sad laugh, “This is going to sound so stupid and cheesy, but… everything. He was everything.”</p>
<p>“Everything?”</p>
<p>“Yeah. He. I felt so much for him, you know? So much. For so long. Forever, it seems like, but it really wasn’t. Just a few years. He was so much to me.”</p>
<p>“You keep saying ‘was’. You guys broke up?”</p>
<p>“Yeah, we did. I-uh. <em>I </em>broke up with him.”</p>
<p>“You said you felt a lot for him, why did you break up then?”</p>
<p>A sad smile and: “Why do you think?”</p>
<p>“Your bipolar diagnosis?” It shouldn’t be a question. She knows that was the reason.</p>
<p>“Yeah. We were together when it happened. I— Fuck. I stole his baby when he told me I had to go to the doctor.”</p>
<p>“Why did he tell you to go to a doctor?”</p>
<p>“I—“ He swallows past the lump in his throat, “I made a—a porno.”</p>
<p>“Oh?”</p>
<p>“Yeah. Um. We were—we were kind of having money problems? And, um. There was this guy at the club I worked at who offered me five, six hundred dollars to do it. I was. Uh. Obviously manic at the time, and so it seemed like a good idea. So I did it. I didn’t go home for an entire night and Mickey was… he was—“ Another swallow, “—he was worried, when I came back. I think. And when I told him about the porno, he—“ A pause.</p>
<p>“He what?”</p>
<p>“I don’t know. He looked like he didn’t know me anymore, you know? Like he didn’t recognise me.And he looked heartbroken. And sad. Worried, too, I already said. And like it broke him to tell me we had to go to a hospital. He— my family had kept asking him to take me to a psych ward. After I had my first depressive episode. But he didn’t agree with them. I guess he was scared. Like, you know, people are usually scared of mental hospitals. I don’t know, maybe he was worried they’d torture me, or something, like in the movies.” That sad smile again, “He was always so worried. So worried for me.”</p>
<p>“Then you took his baby?”</p>
<p>“Yeah. I ran away and stole his baby. And… a bunch of things happened and I got arrested. Then I had to go to the psych ward. He. He even offered to go in with me. So I wouldn’t be alone.”</p>
<p>“Oh.”</p>
<p>“And then I went home and I wouldn’t take my pills. But then the thing with my sister happened, like I told you before, and he went with me there too. Heard that it was a lifelong thing. He looked after me a lot then and… he was always there and it felt. It felt. Suffocating, you know? It wasn’t. It wasn’t <em>him. I lo— </em>It wasn’t him. Its just. I wasn’t… I wasn’t used to it, and everything was already too much. And I wanted something normal. But him hovering over me wasn’t normal. And it reminded me that I wasn’t normal anymore either. That I was something… something <em>fragile</em>. And I hated everything.”</p>
<p>"Seems to me like you didn't know how to let him care for you."</p>
<p>"I guess."</p>
<p>She looks understanding. Patient, too. Always so understanding and patient. Like Mickey. Only, Mickey wasn’t being paid to be understanding and patient. It wasn’t his job, but he still was.</p>
<p>Patient. Understanding. Kind. Loyal.</p>
<p>
  <em>Everything.</em>
</p>
<p>“I felt like he was smothering me, and I lashed out. I—“ Eyes squeezed tightly shut, “I hit him. A lot. I provoked him, and I hit him. And I called him horrible things.” <em>Horrible things I still can’t think about, because I’m a coward</em>, “And I made him hit me back. Just so I could feel something. And I did. I felt it. I always felt something when I was with him. Felt everything with him.</p>
<p>“But then the MPs happened. I ran away with my mom. She said some things to me. I told you. And, uh, I came back. I called him. He came running. He told me he loved me and I asked him what that even meant. Then I broke up with him. The end.” A tight lipped smile.</p>
<p>
  <em>He had tears in his eyes. he was crying. I hurt him. I have to live with that. I don't think you can help me with that. </em>
</p>
<p>“Do you miss him?”</p>
<p>He shrugs.</p>
<p>She looks like she took that as a yes. </p>
<p>“Do you feel guilty about what you did to him?”</p>
<p>“Yes.”</p>
<p>“Have you tried talking to him? To apologise?”</p>
<p>“No.”</p>
<p>
  <em>I’m a coward. I can’t, I can’t, I can’t. I couldn’t bear it if he didn’t forgive me.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>I couldn’t bear it if he did.</em>
</p>
<p>“Okay. I’m going to be honest with you here, Ian. I don’t think what you did was entirely right. There were better ways to go about it. But at the same time, you had just been diagnosed with a disorder that your mother had. A mother you didn't see in an entirely positive light. Not to mention how young you were. Still are. Your world pretty much tilted on your axis. So it’s understandable that you reacted in the way you did. What you did wasn’t right, but it is understandable.”</p>
<p>Ian doesn’t say anything, just stares at his hands in his lap.</p>
<p>“And, from what you’ve just told me about Mickey, I think he’d have understood that too. How long has it been since the break up happened?”</p>
<p>“Eight months.”</p>
<p>“So he’s had time to process it all, and maybe he has. I think talking to him might help you process it all too.”</p>
<p>“I just wanted to protect him,” Ian mumbles, still fixated on his hands.</p>
<p>“From what?”</p>
<p>“Myself. I didn’t want to be the Monica in his life. I’d already spent so much of mine trying to fix the damage that Monica caused. I knew better than anyone what she was capable of. What <em>we</em> are capable of. Hell, Frank is a piece of shit, and we all hate him, but we felt bad for even <em>him</em> whenever she came and inevitably left. She was more a natural disaster than a mother, or a wife, to us. A hurricane. Hurricane Monica. </p>
<p>“So I didn’t want him to have to live through that. He would have. He’s brave and loyal like that. He would have done that happily. I know it now, and I knew it then. But just because he wanted to spend his life dealing with my shit, didn’t mean he should. Didn’t mean it would've been good for him. We all sometimes want things that aren’t good for us, you know? I feel like I’d have sucked the life out of him, if I’d let him stay. Maybe it’s selfish, maybe it’s not. But. It is what it is, I guess. I just couldn’t do it.”</p>
<p>“But it was his choice, you know—“</p>
<p>“I know. Look, I <em>know</em>. I know it was his choice and I should have let him decide. I know I’m not my mother. I know it’s very likely that I wouldn’t have been Hurricane Ian in his life. I know we could’ve worked it out. I know it’s all just me being insecure. I know being bipolar doesn’t mean I don’t deserve love. I know it’s not rational, or—or <em>logical</em>. But I just <em>couldn’t. </em>I couldn’t have him live that life. I selfishly took that choice away from him, and <em>I hate it</em>, but I did it, because he was—and will always be—so fucking <em>selfless</em>. And <em>I just couldn’t do it</em>.”</p>
<p>There’s silence, then, and Ian looks out the window to see the rain has slowed down.</p>
<p>“But I haven’t stopped being selfish.”</p>
<p>“What do you mean?”</p>
<p>"I want him back."</p>
<p>By the time the session ends and Ian exits the building, the rain has stopped fully, and it feels like everything thing is cleaner than it was before. </p>
<p>Ian heads towards the Milkovich House.</p>
<p>—</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>i don't even know what happened here.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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